


Car Troubles

by Pukka



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil being a dork, Cecil is Mostly Human, Fluff, Gen, POV Cecil (Welcome to Night Vale), Tentacles and how they are useless for most things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pukka/pseuds/Pukka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos' car breaks down and who does he call? Cecil. Which was probably a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Troubles

“Cecil stop that you’re getting… stuff everywhere again.”  
“Stuff?” Oh he’s so perfect. Even when he’s angry he’s just perfect.   
“That thixotropic viscous gel you secrete from your tentacles.” Carlos pushes a hand through his beautiful, albeit butchered, hair. “It’s all over the mechanics now.”   
“Do you have any toothpaste?” I didn’t brush after my mid afternoon, government mandated, energy bar. What if he smells it? This is a date and I can’t allow a date to go badly.   
“Of course I do. Now help me find the jack, the tyre needs changed.”  
Anything he wants. Anything at all. The car is lifted several feet off the ground and the normality that this appears with is astounding. Here is a lump of metal that not only carries us from place to place only asking for a few mouthfuls of gas, but that it can be suspended in mid air using a simple mechanism. Astounding.   
“It’s not supposed to float like that.” Beautiful Carlos, with his oily fingers and pristine complexion, frowns. “Nothing here makes any sense.”  
“What is sense when we consider the vast emptiness within which we dwell? Our lives are tiny in comparison to the might of the void which inches ever closer every moment our eyes are averted. To consider sense is to defy logic. The universe isn’t built on straight lines and crowds, it’s empty and black.”  
He just stares at the hovering car as if he didn’t hear my answer. There is a low hum in the distance, like something moving ever closer. The sun is too bright. Everything is bleached by it’s cruel fingertips. Everything except Carlos; who remains stubbornly and beautifully dark.   
“Cecil you change that while I fix the engine.”  
Whatever he says. Gripping things has never been my strong point but if he wants me to then I will give it a go. No one likes a quitter am I right? The wrench is too smooth but I keep trying. When I finally get it in hand I wave in celebration, sending the heavy, smooth, lump of metal the human mind has developed over hundreds of years into a tool to solve a very specific problem, into Carlos’ skull. He jumps back in alarm. One slender hand holds the spot where I struck while the other gesticulates wildly. It is an impressive show.  
“What was that for?”  
“An accident. I’m afraid my tentacles are quite slippy at times.”  
“Just go get me some ice will you?”  
An invitation into his home! A glimpse at his most private retreat, the place where he can be himself and no one else. Such a treat. His back is to me so he cannot see the smile spreading across my face nor observe the spring so recently acquired to my step. The door opens without a sound into a kitchen devoid of character. Simple and practical, much like the man himself. I expected no less. Although my permission was for ice, presumably in the freezer though one can never be certain, I cannot help but stretch that invitation by taking a few more steps.   
He has a computer. Not unusual. But beside it, under the pointer used to control the device, lies a small square of foam. It isn’t. It couldn’t be. A mousemat. I had no idea the most beautiful and perfect Carlos with his blue tie and fashionable waistcoat would be one to break the law. To have a banned object was a crime. To be so irreverent of our great city council would warrant a punishment. I could not, would not, allow it. I take the object break into a run. Much to his surprise I appear without ice and a new cause to dedicate myself to. The sheriff’s secret police could be here any moment. I throw the banned object into the back seat and try to wipe all traces of its existence from my mind. It may already be too late.   
“We need to get rid of your car.”  
“What? I know it’s broken but that’s drastic.   
“Now.”   
“Cecil stop that, put that down. What’s gotten into you? No, you’re going to hit the well.” A manicured hand on my shoulder. A velvet voice in my ear. “There’s not even enough space. Stop. You’ll chip the paint. Stop.”  
I keep going. It is for his own safety. Wham. It hits the wall. Bam. It’s through. We’re safe. For another moment at least.  
“How…?”  
“There was plenty of space in the well, did you not see the nebulas?”


End file.
